


Stemming the Dragon Tide

by Tlern467



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Champion of Nirn, Daedric plots, Dragons, Dwemer - Freeform, Elsweyr, F/M, Magic, Time Travel, Vampirism, hard choices, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 18:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tlern467/pseuds/Tlern467
Summary: Ongoing fic about my main character Treewynne Dell continuing her adventures, preparing to journey to take on the great threat to Elsweyr while also dealing with her budding romance to Darien Gautier and the ever present threat of the Daedric Princes





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One 

Treewynne Dell wiped sweat from her brow in the sudden, sulfurous heat. Steam hissed in angry bursts from nearby fissures hot enough to sear meat in moments.   
Just behind her was the moon singer Tadan-Jo.   
“This one is not sure, did we take a wrong turn?”   
“It’s supposed to be here. You didn’t have to come along you know,” Treewynne said   
“And miss the chance to save the world? This one thinks not. That said, this one hopes we did not step in a molamar mound.”   
“Let’s keep going.”   
The duo pressed forward against the oppressive heat of this domain, careful to avoid caustic steam pockets.   
Finally they emerged from the deadly maze to an equally stunning and dangerous landscape.   
Lava poured down stone waterfalls to gather in molten lakes. Sharp formations of volcanic glass reached up like tormented fingers. Ash fell periodically like rain.   
Small, determined clumps of fungi clung desperately to small pockets of refuge remaining in this hellscape.   
“Oh ho, didn’t expect ye here so soon, Hero,” Sheogorath bellowed from somewhere indistinct. “And ye even brought a friend have ye?” 

“Sheogorath,” Treewynne growled. Of course what they were looking for would be tied up with a Daedric prince! 

He popped extravagantly into view. “Oh don’t sound so glum Hero! You’re my second-or is it third? Fourth? Bah, doesn’t matter! You’re a favorite mortal of mine!”   
“Oh and ye’re just in time!! See ol’ Martie wasn’t doing so well. Lonely and all. Snappish. Now she’s got company, I’m sure you’ll get along like cheese and crackers! Mmmm cheese, did ye bring some cheese wit’ ye? No? Oh well!” 

“Oh Martie dear, come out and see the company come to see you. Play nice ye heat?” Then he winked and disappeared again. 

The ground trembled violently once, twice, three times.   
“Dark moons!!!” The moon singer exclaimed.   
A gigantic, misshapen skeever lumbered into view. Saliva frothed around its tangled maw. It hissed appreciatively, different colored eyes alighting on the moon singer.   
It rushed forward with a speed unbelievable for its massive girth. Massive teeth snapped and grated and it swung swollen paws.   
The moon singer deftly dodged the swipes, just dancing out of the hungry creature’s terrible grasp.   
While it was distracted by the moon singer, Treewynne drew her blade and swung quickly, making quick cuts meant to stagger and irritate the monster. 

Tadan-Jo struck with bursts of magical lights straight at the creature’s eyes. It screamed, blinded and striking wildly. Treewynne struck again and again. The moon singer kept her magical bursts coming. 

They didn’t stand a chance in a battle of attrition. If they could stagger it, keep it off balance, that was their only opportunity. 

Martie backed up, shrieking and clawing in pain. The rhythm continued, sweat and heat and blood mixing together in a foul odor.   
“Now Treewynne Dell!” the moon singer shouted, heaving a potent blast of magic. 

Martie screamed and fell backward to the nearby lava lake, its leg sinking into the molten depths and its neck came into reach.   
Treewynne bashed with her shield, stunning the skeever. Then her sword plunged into the sinewy neck. Martie screamed and flailed, trying but failing to reach either of her prey.   
Every one of the muscles in her arms and chest screamed in agony as she pushed against the leathery tissue.   
It seemed forever, and then...Martie’s head came free of its body to tumble into the molten lake and disappear forever.   
Treewynne’s armor was covered in blood and fur that would take some time to clean.   
She was exhausted but had survived another of the Mad God’s deranged playthings. 

“Now why’d you have to go and do that Hero?!” Sheogorath said, popping into view. “She just wanted to play wit’ ye.”   
“Enough,” Treewynne said. “We’ve come for the Elder Scroll.”   
“Have ye now? Not to visit old uncle Sheo? A shame, a shame. I miss our visits. You’re always such a tease Hero.”   
Treewynne just stared the Mad God down. 

He broke into a grin and laughed. “Oh that old dusty thing! Fine, I suppose ye can have it. But do ye really want it? Word is, those things have a habit of creeping up on you.”   
“Yes. We do.” Treewynne said. “The Scroll. Now.”   
“Oh now you’re getting boring! Have it your way Hero.” Sheogorath reached out and the Elder Scrolls conjured into view.   
Treewynne grabbed it, being careful not to let any exposed skin touch the magical artifact.   
“Let’s go, moon singer,” Treewynne said.   
“This one agrees. Hold on tight,” the moon singer said. “Eyevea.”   
The portal opened. 

“Tell Valaste Sheo says hey, and don’t forget to visit yourself, Hero,” he said as they stepped into the portal and into the safety of the mages enclave. 

“You’re back safe!” Valaste said. “I would hug you friend but don’t want blood on my robes.”   
“That’s fine. We got the Scroll. Have you contacted the Moth Priests?”   
“Yes. They’re waiting in the audience Hall. Where was it?”   
“Sheogorath got his hands on it.”   
“Mara’s breath, not the Mad God again! Well I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried. Here let me take the Scroll. I’ll get it to the priests right away.”   
“Gladly,” Treewynne said. Valaste carefully took the Scroll, being careful not to let any bare skin touch it as she hurried to the Moth Priests. 

“Thank you for your help moon singer,” Treewynne said. “As for me, I’m gonna take a long wash and enjoy a good book.”   
“This one hopes so. The Dragons are contained for now in my homeland. The Mane will let you know when we’re ready to strike back.”   
“I’ll be ready,” she said.   
“This one thanks you on behalf of her people. Goodbye for now.”

Treewynne allowed herself a deep sigh. Yes, there was so much to do. She could only hope she was up to the task of fixing the mistake she was a part of.


	2. Chapter Two-Dreams and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darien Gautier, who Treewynne took for dead, is back with the loveable eccentric Cadwell. Both are there to help Treewynne and Lyris get free from one of Vaermina’s more dangerous nightmares after the Hero had foiled many of her cultist’s plans in Tamriel. But at an unexpected cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nightmare material of some past trauma of the Vestige, so it may be sensitive to some readers. 
> 
> Also this is set after the msq of Summerset and Clockwork City so there will be references to events in both. It is also going with Treewynne completing the main campaign. This is your spoiler warning

Chapter Two-Dreams and Nightmares 

The capital city Alinor gleamed even in the depths of evening. Troubadours and dancers continued to entertain Altmeri festivities and even some newcomer traditions since the new arrangement with the Sapiarchs.   
There was a rare sense of peace. Vanus himself was helping Valaste and the Khajiti mages set up and maintain the wards keeping the Dragons in Elsweyr for now. The wards wouldn’t hold forever of course, but would buy time enough to organize a proper resistance and aid to the beleaguered people of Elsweyr. 

Soon the Alliances would discover the true nature of the crisis, and possibly use that as leverage against the Dominion she had grown to love. She could only hope the three leaders would come to their senses enough to cooperate, but was also realistic. She had seen that it took Molag Bal bringing some of his most elite Daedra to assassinate the three leaders to force their hand the last time. It would probably call for an equally tangible threat for them to parley once again. But that was also for another time. 

Treewynne slowly walked the ascent to the manse she inherited from the former Treethane ambassador. From the Queen and Queen Proxy themselves. Why they thought she would need a manse was beyond her, but that was also why she was not Queen and Ayrenn was. She was exhausted, having taken the dreamblock draught as a preventative measure against attacks by Vaermina or worse. But she would have to fully rest and dream eventually. 

She opened the door and saw her fireplace was lit in the front foyer. Someone was here. Strange. Her makeshift mattress was undisturbed, as were her pile of reading materials. 

“Oh sorry, someone let me in. They said you’d probably be too tired from your last journey to hear the door. Akatosh preserve me, you look worse than the first time I saw you all those years ago. Well minus you having a soul again of course.”   
“Lyris! I, wow, I haven’t seen you in years! It’s very good to see you!”   
“Come give me a hug,” she said. 

The two friends embraced.   
“Oh mara’s mercy it is good to see you again!” Lyris said.   
“Likewise. I’m just very tired.”   
“So I’ve been told. You should’ve sent word you were womping Daedric playthings.”   
“Yeah,” Treewynne said wearily.   
“When’s the last time you slept proper?”   
“A fortnight. The mages guild is worried about Supernal activity.”   
“They’re right to worry. But tonight, we’ll be ready for them, because we know they’re coming.”   
“We do?”   
“Oh yes. Raz and I led them here. But I’ll be with you this time don’t worry.”   
“You what!?”   
“I said don’t worry. We got this under control. Well, probably.”   
“Great. So reassuring. But I guess we get this over with I can get a restful night sleep.”   
“At least you’re not a werewolf. Word in my people is those creatures never rest again.”   
“Oh there are plenty of werewolves in my people,” Treewynne said. “But many times they’re worshippers of Hircine, the wild part of our past.”   
“True enough my friend.”   
“So, we need to do anything? Light candles whatnot?”   
“Nope. Just be ready for whatever comes,” Lyris said. 

The duo found themselves surrounded by aetherial mist and, more importantly, the keen absence of sound. Their footfalls did not echo in this formless place.   
“We in Quagmire?” Treewynne said   
Lyris shrugged. “You’ve fought Vaermina enough, you’re the expert. I’m just really good at hitting things. Hard. With swords.”   
“This feels different. Spooky enough. Oh well, no use standing around.” 

They pressed forward into the mist. Shadows formed and unformed in the distance just on the edge of sight. They couldn’t shake the feeling intelligent predators of the mind, soul and body were hungrily watching them. 

Then the mist cleared just enough to show shapes and forms, first shadow then corporeal form. Bestial snarls, the lick of hungry flame. The smell of soot, ash, wet musky fur and blood. It was all coming back clearly into view. 

Werewolves snarled, feeding on the fresh dead. The city Boughheath was in flames. Bosmer roamed the ruined paveways, eager hunters like their werewolf brethren. There was a madness in their expression, but these lost sheep of her people were not claimed by The Mad God. No this was something different-something arguably far worse because the Bosmer had done it to themselves. 

“What is this?”   
“My home.” Treewynne breathed against the suffocating horror.   
“A remote city in the heart of Valenwood. Only ruins and death are there now. The chaos in Cyrodil and greater Nirn had panicked our people.   
The Green Lady had died in the fighting, and shortly after our Silvenar. We were without options, or so we thought.   
Our High Treethane at the time called for the Great Hunt in a desperate hour.   
Our people lost our way, many abandoning the way of the Leaf and embracing Hircine, turning into were beasts.   
Those who didn’t were like the stranglers and the senche and the wild spriggans, or the prey. I lost nearly everything when a roving band destroyed my city...” 

“I’m so sorry,” Lyris said.   
“It was horrible, so horrible.” 

Yes, it was.   
Her mother, a stern faced Altmeri, scowled at her. “I never wanted you anyway. I loved your father but didn’t want to raise a Bosmer runt like you. I hated you, but I was your mother. I was proud. So I fought back all the urges to plunge your face into the wash basin, to be rid of you. And for what? You left me to die, runt.”  
“Mother, I...” 

“Don’t listen to her Treewynne!” Lyris said. But where was she? So far away. Just like Darien. Just like Raz. Just like her Queen.   
“Listen to your mother,” her father interrupted. “Estre was the rightful Queen. The Dominion is a mistake. I made a mistake believing we were equals. You...you were a mistake. I hate you too daughter.”   
“Father no!!”   
“It’s not real, none of this is real,” Lyris again. “I’m right here.”   
But where was she?? Treewynne couldn’t see her stalwart friend anywhere.   
Varien Aqualarius glared at her next.   
“You sacrificed me without a second thought. And for what? The Anchors remain, Molag Bal’s plan is already in motion. You failed then and you nearly failed again at the Crystal Tower. What kind of hero are you?”   
“I did what I had to,” Treewynne said feebly.   
“Yes, always about you. Just like me. Except you might be worse than me. You’re no better than the monsters you left behind, Treewynne Dell.”   
“That’s...not true. It can’t be.”   
“You and Abnur unleashed the Dragons. You shackled Khali to the Dark Mane and when she wasn’t strong enough, you killed her corrupted form. You let the good Proctor die. She was a better person than you. This is all on you.”   
“I know.”   
“And are you prepared to face your punishment finally?”   
“Not if I have anything to say about it!”   
Darien?   
Blinding yellow gold light broke through the fog, shunning it like light casts out darkness. Varen shimmered and dissolved under the light’s relentless assault. 

“Whew. Glad I got here just in time!” Darien said, still dressed in the Auroran armor.   
“Darien? Is that-is that really you!?” She reached out a hand to his whiskered face and it was solid. He didn’t disappear. He was real-Darien was real again!  
She sobbed in relief, and he brought her close. And she wept.   
“Shhh, shh it’s okay. I’m here now, I’m here. Shhh,” Darien whispered. “I’m so so sorry it took me so long. I’m so sorry.” 

She didn’t know how long she wept on his shoulder in that place, and she didn’t care. 

Now more composed she wiped her tears, balled up her fist and punched him solidly in the cheek. Still solid.   
“Ow! What in Mara’s name was that for!?”   
“Well it was either kiss you or punch you and I didn’t want you to be a trick and cry anymore.”   
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Darien said. “Wait did you say kiss?”   
“Yup.”   
“Okay. Just checking.”   
“Yes, well jolly good. All present and accounted for. Jolly good, wot wot.” Cadwell smiled in his delightfully oblivious way. “Always a pleasure to see the person who gave old Molag a good heave, wot.”   
“Cadwell!!” Both Lyris and Treewynne shouted. This time Lyris rushed and squeezed the frail eccentric man in a big hug.   
“Oh Lyris m’dear. Good to see you, wot wot.” The Nord set him down and he brushed his armor. “Let’s get out of this cheerless place, wot wot.”   
“Yes,” Darien said. 

The entire locale shifted, and an angry scream of rage and bitterness echoed everywhere all at once.   
“Noooo! You won’t escape me this time Treewynne Dell. You belong to ME!!”   
“That’s our cue to exit,” Darien said. He drew Dawnstar and sliced into the formless mist, tearing it aside with sheer force of will until it was a sizable portal to safety.   
“Go, now!”   
A horde of Daedric horrors tumbled forward in a seething mass of anger and hunger.   
Lyris jumped through first, followed by Darien. Treewynne jumped next and Cadwell brought up the rear but not before the horde caught up to them.   
“Unhand me you ruffians!” Cadwell said. The enraged creatures grabbed and tore, overpowering him and dragging him from the portal back into the depths of that horrid place.   
“Cadwell no!!” Lyris shouted.   
Then he was gone.  
“I have to shut it now!”   
“But Cadwell’s still in there!”   
“Cadwell will be fine.”   
The portal shut. 

The party slumped, defeated, in the safety of her manse.   
“So you’re just going to abandon him!?” Lyris said, going toe toe with Darien.  
“Easy, easy. We’re gonna get him back. Meridia doesn’t take well to losing any of her champions. But we gotta have a plan and our friend here needs some real rest. I’ll make sure Vaermina doesn’t try another attack.”   
“Very well. But we better be getting him back. Swear it.”   
“Of course we will,” Darien said. 

Treewynne stumbled to her mattress and collapsed in an emotionally battered, exhausted heap. The blackness of sleep greeted her like an old friend, and for the first time in years she was well and truly safe.


	3. Chapter 3.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group is ready to face Rzindal and its horrors with the Sapphire Fire in hand and save Clockwork City-again.

Chapter 3.3 

The ruin of Rzindal yawned like a menacing lion, a gaping maw in the wasteland surrounding the Fortress. Blue tipped Dwarven automata continued to amass from the ruin, almost as if they were being created out of thin air.   
The discordant song continued to pelt out, but Holli and Darien wore earplugs to protect themselves. 

“This is almost as disturbing as the Shadow Cleft,” Holli said in her unfazed monotone.   
“Enough to frighten Sotha Sil,” Divath said.   
“Hmm.” 

“Well, shall we?” Darien said with a nervous chuckle. Treewynne had faced down Daedric Princes, Lichs and so many horrors but this-this was something altogether different. It was evil on a scale she had never encountered before-ancient and imposing, as old as the fabric of time itself. 

Just what had these Dwemer been experimenting with-and what would make even a god who forced Daedric Princes to acquiesce to his demands flinch? 

They cautiously entered the tunnel and noticed the change in atmosphere instantly. Red lights zigzagged like arteries across obsidian walls cut with jagged runes.   
“Curious,” Divath mumbled, but did not elaborate. Constructs pouring out from the maw’s depths passed them by without even a shred of acknowledgement. Only the uneasy red-yellow light seeping from their faceplates was the same.   
Periodically there would be slate tables, this time with recognizable runes. Treewynne didn’t have to imagine what happened in these tables-she’d seen enough in her adventures to know. 

Yet what was curious was each one seemed to be dedicated to a Daedric prince. Molag Bal, Mehrunes Dagon, Mephala, Vile, Nocturnal. 

“Hmm. Well I think the picture is getting a little more clear,” Divath Fyr said. “Don’t you agree?” 

Treewynne could only nod.   
These tables were indoctrination shrines of sorts, meant to funnel the essence of a living being toward a dedicated Prince. But these tables were an inferior version, purposely modified. 

But why would the Dwarves do this? They didn’t even worship the Divines, Aedra or Daedra! It didn’t make any sense. 

There was a piece they were missing.   
The deeper they went, the more horrible it became. Praetorians worked away at giant sieves with some sort of amber like fluid. 

“Oh. I see,” Divath said. “A word, assistant. You two, watch our backs will you?”   
He gently pulled Treewynne aside. 

“Anything about this remind you of something, assistant?” He said in a hushed tone.   
“Those were Daedric tables back there. This looks a lot like the sap factory I destroyed in Coldharbor. Come to think of it, this whole place is designed a lot like Coldharbor.”   
“Ah yes, exactly. This place is like sweet sap to a dreugh. The Dwemer here used this place as a soul crucible.”   
“That sounds bad.”   
“It is.”   
“But why?”   
“To make an army, what else?”   
“But there’s only automatons...”   
“Yet the number of automations has increased lately hasn’t it?”   
A feeling settled in her stomach.   
“It can’t be.”   
“Every one of these golems is powered by a living soul.”   
“So what about the music?”   
“What better way to make puppets dance? I read your stuff about Rkindaleft. I think it’s something similar here.”   
“So what do we do?”   
“Do? Why we smash it to ribbons, blow it up w the stones.”   
“What’ll happen to the music if we shut it down? What’ll happen to the souls?”  
“I don’t think it’s reversible,” Divath said. “This is ancient magic here, messing w the fabric of reality itself. I think those souls are gone forever...” 

Treewynne nodded slowly. She understood. It wasn’t the first time she had to make a hard choice. 

“Come on, lets keep moving. And Darien, I’ll take the stones for now.”   
Darien gave her a questioning look and slowly handed the stones over.   
Did he know? 

Before long they were in the very heart of this cursed place.   
“No, no no,” Holli whimpered. The Apostles who investigated, down to an individual, were dead-but placed at the heart of the monstrous crucibles by unfeeling red eyed Praetorians. Holli watched in horror as their souls were lifted from their broken bodies into yellow plasma that churned toward waiting still automatons. 

“Bastards,” Holli snarled, uncharacteristically emotional.   
And at the very core was the tonal inverter that was playing the discordant song and a vague silhouette of a woman, a Living Shadow.   
“Oh Stibbons, we’ve done it this time,” the Living Shadow said. “They will be sure to be pleased.”   
Treewynne reached out and felt her anger smolder into a sweltering inferno of rage and the stones lit up, burning into her palms before unleashing their flame and purifying light.   
She struck first at the shadow version of lady Laurent, then the cursed machine. The rage, the anger, the pain filled her up, howling through the stones and through her. She flailed at the machinery, at the automatons, at everything. 

She was not sure how long her cleansing rampage had gone on, much less how she had managed to make it out of that hole. But when she came to her senses there were piles of dead automatons and corrupted factotums all around her, their souls gone forever. The opening where the ruin was, had disappeared as if it never existed.   
She was alone with the stones quiet, the music hushed forever. They were still hot to the touch like embers from a forge fire.   
Had she done the right thing? 

She noticed her companions again, the distraught Holli who couldn’t even look at her. Divath Fyr with his own unreadable expression and Darien. 

“I’m sorry Treewynne,” he said.   
“For what?”   
“You had to do some of what I have to do as a champion of Meridia. That changes you.”   
“It does,” she said quietly.   
“You saved hundreds assistant,” Divath said. “But it’s never easy.”   
“No,” she said.   
Holli didn’t say anything, just walked silently, numb, into the Fortress entrance.   
“Let’s get you both back where you belong eh?” Divath Fyr said. “Clockwork is safe again for now, but Tamriel still needs you Hero.”   
“Come on, he’s right,” Darien said quietly, taking the stones from her numb grasp. He held her. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. But she didn’t need to. 

The portal opened and Darien shepherded her back to Tamriel.   
She only hoped she didn’t have to repeat something like this again.


	4. Chapter 4-Cadwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finally has the means to rescue Cadwell from his prison. There’s some insight on the Dragons and the threat Molag Bal insinuated may be bigger than anyone imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references a prophecy and a taunt Molag Bal says to the Vestige at the end of the main storyline in ESO.

Chapter 4 Cadwell 

Treewynne couldn’t shake the feeling that she was becoming someone different than what she was after using the Sapphire Fire. What else was she capable of if left unchecked? 

Darien set down some emberrose tea, one of the few things still Bosmeri. Even the Green Pact and the wild ways before Yffre, she could feel them changing. 

Treewynne sipped it, felt the bitter tang of stewed chokethorn brambles, the sweetness of rose petals and just a touch of ember honey.   
Lyris came back.”Good news. Vanus found where they’re keeping Cadwell. Bad news-can’t bring our whole party in. It’ll just be whichever three you choose my friend.”   
“Are you sure it’s wise letting me choose?” Treewynne said   
“Yes. You’re the key to that lock. You need to trust your companions implicitly to watch your back, as I did with the four companions back then.”   
What if something happens like Sapphire Fire again? Treewynne thought. Oh there was nothing to it, her friend was a resolute as her name suggested.   
The ragtag number of her friends was growing, many all together under her roof. Neramo promised his help dealing with the Dragons, the dungeon delving twins Raynor and Kireth, Tilele smiling there-a bit out of place in her Apostle gear. Then there were members of both the Fighters Guild and the Mages Guild present. Naryu Virion was even there in the shadows, though thankfully not dressed to the hilt in her full Morag Tong outfit. Then there was Silurie from Summerset and her wood elf friend from Orsinium.   
“So many of you believe in me,” she said.   
“You’re the one who brought us all together,” Lyris said. “These Dragons and Princes want War in Tamriel we’ll bring them war.”   
“Okay. Silurie, Darien and my wood elf friend Eveli.”   
She perked up. “Who, little old me?”   
“Yes,” Treewynne said, a genuine smile returning. “The rest of you? I guess help yourself. I’m sorry I didn’t have accommodations.”   
“You don’t have to worry about that my friend. The Guilds are working together for this council. You just focus on getting Cadwell back and yourself back in one piece. We’ll be waiting here.” 

Her three chosen companions stood by her. Silurie gave Treewynne a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The portal opened, and teased a shadow realm she felt like she had been before.   
“That’s not ominous at all,” Silurie said. “But nothing to it. Can’t beat those Daedra standing still here.”   
Treewynne took a steadying breath and they jumped. 

This plane was different from the other Daedric planes she had been to. It felt, older. Like the Dreaming Path.   
Wisps of light whooshed around them, drawn by the overwhelming power of something at the very heart. A great obelisk that pulsed with blue and red flame, surrounded by a maelstrom of blue light. 

Great skeletal beasts circled in the writhing skies of stormy blue, black and violet. Spectral and skeletal workers toiled on various tasks, none of them daring to go near the light or the pulsing obelisk.   
“Cadwell’s gotta be here somewhere,” she said.   
“I think that Valaste lady, nice lady, said something about a Tower o’ Eternal Dusk,” Eveli said.   
“May as well start there,” Silurie said.   
Just then a rumbling and a wailing and a magnificent spectral Dragon rose seemingly from the earth. A small clutch of ritualists spoke to the Dragon but the party was too far away to see exactly who they were or what they said. Whatever the exchange, the Dragon did not seem to give them the desired information because the ritualists turned away in disgust and vanished in moments into shadows themselves.   
The spectral Dragon remained.   
Why did Treewynne seem to recognize it? 

The Dragon turned and stared at Treewynne.   
“Child of remade soul, Rootmender, Champion of Vivec, Hero of Clockwork City and Savior of Summerset Isles, I greet you,” the Dragon said, both a whisper and a shout at the same time. “My All-Father, my Progenitor, sees you,” it continued. “He knows you and will give you what you need to save his beloved Nirn. First you must come to me with your companions, face me. Survive Auri-El’s test for you and I will give you both the insight and the tools to free this Cadwell and do as the Progenitor requires. I will see you soon.”   
And with that, silence.

“Hey, hey you with us here?” Darien said.   
“Huh? Oh yeah. Just found out what we have to do next.”   
“And that is?” Silurie asked   
“Go down there, fight that spectral Dragon, defeat it. Simple enough,” Treewynne said   
“We really need to work on your idea of ‘simple’ my friend,” Silurie said.   
“Oof. Can my arrows even do anything?” Eveli said. “I’m not very good at the stabby stabby with ghosts.”   
“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Probably,” Darien said.   
“Reassuring,” Silurie said. 

They descended deeper into this strange land. Spectral workers and skeletons didn’t bother to look up from their work as the company passed. Meanwhile the spectral Dragon waited.   
The company noticed clumps of bloodfiends tearing ferally at what was essentially feed, being careful to give each a wide berth. 

Vampire overseers watched their workers and blood fiends on the top of the rise to the east, thus far unaware of the party’s presence. Treewynne could only hope that remained. Something about those vampires made her very sure those creatures were not to be trifled with. She couldn’t place it, but so far her instincts had served her well. 

It was unclear how long they traversed the makeshift quarry, the workers and the certain threat of those vampires before they got to a small clearing with stunted trees, a flame, hags, hagravens and harpies. But these cursed beings were different still then their Tamriel brethren. Their skin was mottled with blackish spots, their eyes white with blindness to the light of day.   
Still, the great spectral Dragon waited.   
They cleared another scrap of landscape. Spectral Nords, Highlanders and Dunmer sang off tune, drinking flagons of mead. Dremora mages stood amongst their number with cold, merciless smiles. The spectral figures didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to care, that the Dremora were there. The Dremora flicked a cursory glance to Treewynne and her companions, nothing more.   
They passed another landscape, this one a paltry imitation of the lush jungle of Hircine’s hunting grounds. Bosmer, Nord, Dunmer it didn’t matter-these men and women couldn’t control their transformations as they shifted back and forth between all manner of were creature. Some shifted into weresenche, others into the familiar werewolves, others still into werebears and wereboars. Dremora and vampires watched over these unfortunate souls, not even deigning to see the companions pass by. 

Finally they reached the great caldera where the spectral Dragon was.   
“Now come, face me. My father doesn’t give his gifts to those unable to bear them.”   
“To arms,” Treewynne said. 

The battle started. The Dragon shouted streams of knife like ice, it shouted flame. Its great claws tore and swiped. Eveli’s arrows pierced the great beasts wings. Dawnstar crashed like an avalanche of light. The ghost shouted FUS DO RAH and the air itself shivered with concussive force Darien was only barely able to parry. Silurie’s quick daggers tore into the ghost’s exposed underside. She dodged the ghost’s enraged counter attack. 

Back and forth the battle went, neither side gaining or giving ground. A true war of attrition. 

At last the Dragon backed up.   
“Enough,” it called. “I have seen enough. You and your friends are deserving of my father’s gifts. Tell your friends to stand down.”   
“It’s over,” Treewynne said. The rest of the party cautiously sheathed their weapons.   
“First, the Tor of Anumaril, present during the last stand of the Mer before my Father shouted at Pelinore,” it said. A longsword of fluted crystal fell literally into Treewynne’s hands. “Next the Wishbringer of Anumaril.”   
A device, if you could call it that, came forward. It required a single grip and was shaped very similarly to Sunna’rah except with a clear crystal at its top and much smaller  
“There are plots within plots. Both the Princes and Euraxia have found ways to infiltrate. My Father sees that you will be betrayed, and the cloak of illusion will bar your way. Use that in those moments, and the light of Auri El will see you through again. Your friends here are trustworthy and safe. You must lean on them to discern the truth in the times ahead.” Treewynne sheathed the blade in her extra sheath and clipped the artifact out of sight to her person.   
“Molag Bal told me there were other masters more terrible than him. Was he speaking the truth?”   
“In a way. As with much with the Daedric Princes and even my father, the truth is rarely so simple. But yes, Molag Bal was right. There are enemies more powerful than a Daedric lord alone or even my brothers and sister who have long since lost their way. My Father is trusting you to keep Nirn safe from them, as he trusted you before in the battle with the Daedric prince in the heart of Coldharbor. My time is getting short, you must free this Cadwell soon and return to Tamriel. You can not best the masters of the Soul Cairn, and it is unwise to linger and draw their attention. My Father’s last two gifts: the Amulet of Kings he has reclaimed from Abnur Tharn and the key to this Cadwell’s prison. Farewell, and be swift, Hero. Much is upon your shoulders.”   
She looked down to the warmth on her neck and there was the Amulet of Kings.   
The key, a gaunt thing of black iron and cold steel and bone, was suddenly in the palm of her hand.   
“We have what we came for. Let’s get Cadwell and go back.”   
“What’d it say to your question?” Silurie said   
“Not here,” Treewynne replied. “We have to get Cadwell and go.”   
Already she could feel a presence stirring in the depths of this wretched place, toward the obelisk. It was not yet aware of them.   
The Dragon shifted its head to the tower where Cadwell was.   
“Once you have retrieved Cadwell, I will open a portal back to Nirn.”   
“Can we help you?” She asked.   
“No. You do not have the means. my Father must allow some events to pass for others to be prevented. Such it is with me.”   
“I see.”   
“It is good that you asked, brave one,” the Dragon said. “Though you do not share our blood, you have our courage and our means to change the world for better or ill. Now go.”   
They ascended the short walk to the imposing tower and its door. The key clicked into place, the door rolled open and the key shattered like minuscule grains of sand.   
“Okay that’s creepy,” Darien said. 

Cadwell nodded in his sleep where he stood.   
“Hey old man, time to wake up!” Darien said.   
Cadwell blinked. “Why Mara’s fiddle it is good to see you chaps again. Here for a good old jolly rescue? Jolly good, jolly good.” 

They returned to where the Dragon waited, and the portal opened. The presence at the heart shifted, its awareness leaning toward full wakefulness. 

She gestured to the party and they stepped through together, back to her manse and the waiting assemblage.  
Could one of her friends here really betray her? Or was it someone else? And why would a Prince lock up Cadwell I’m that place? 

She sighed. More questions without answers. But she did get some answers, and some tools to save her homeland and Tamriel.

Auri El trusted her. She would see this done.


	5. Chapter 5-Answers in the Aether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treewynne gets a lead on the traitor in her midst and Akatosh finally awakens in her the power she needs to fulfill her destiny as his Champion.

Chapter 5-Answers in the Aether. 

“Ah, five claw,” Raz greeted Treewynne. He nodded to Darien as well.   
“Raz is ready when you two are,” he said.   
“Just what are we dealing with?”   
“A small group of Daedra worshippers,” Raz said.   
“And the Queen is concerned about this?”   
“Yes. Raz is not certain, but thinks they may be working with the Veiled Heritance. It has the stink of Dagon from what this one was informed,” Raz said. “Raz also sent a scout or two-neither has returned.”   
“I’m always good with fighting Daedric cultists,” Darien said   
“Let’s go,” Razum Dar said. 

They descended into an Ayleid ruin. Raz lowered into a crouch once they descended the staircase and reached their first open area. Treewynne followed his lead, as did Darien. 

Voices and sounds echoed from deeper in the ruin. The screech of clannfear feeding, the rumble of an atronach’s passing, whispers. 

Everything fit the pattern, but something still made her skin prickle in a familiar way.   
“I think our mole’s been here,” she said in a hushed tone to Raz. Raz could only nod, he probably sensed it as well. 

After all, whoever or whatever this traitor she was warned about in the Soul Cairn had also trailed Razum Dar among others in her trusted circle, ruling them out. Still they were no closer to uncovering who or what this shadow’s identity was. Neither Eye of the Queen could risk this traitor coming into proximity with the Queen, especially when they knew so little. 

They crawled forward, keenly listening for any tell tale signs of traps. More Daedra swarmed the ruins. The more intelligent Watchers in their keen patrols, scamps chittering at each other, clannfear. Flame atronachs flitted about and danced. No sign yet of any cultists or the savvy cruel Dremora.   
Darien shook his head. Even he was sensing things were not quite right. She had by necessity had to withhold information from Lyris, the Psijic order and it’s new Ritemaster and Darien-not because her, Raz or even Ayrenn distrusted them. Rather, it was because this traitor had already sussed out their importance to Treewynne and had managed to target these people and groups as a result. 

They pressed forward. Great storm atronachs rumbled in their fiercesome meanderings. Twilight matriarchs circled and laughed. 

“You’re certain?” A gravelly dremora asked.   
“Yes,” a cloaked figure said. “Maintain your vigil. Her and the cat should be here.”   
“And if they are not?”   
“Don’t you trust me?”   
“Not particularly,” the dremora answered.   
“Wise,” the cloaked figure said. “But I am loyal to the Prince of Ambition so long as he maintains his part of our deal.”   
“See to it you do. We serve the Master first,” the dremora answered.   
Then the two returned to the depths of the ruin and the three were alone again.   
“Hmm,” Raz said, considering. This hooded figure was connected to the traitor. There was a trap waiting for them further in. Did they set the trap knowing what was coming or leave the ruins for now?   
He shook his head. “This one does not like walking into traps,” he hissed. “But Raz cannot risk them following Raz to the Queen. Maybe we spring the trap then finish this business now?”   
She looked over at Darien.   
“I’m with you no matter what,” Darien said.

“Let’s see what traps we can scare up,” she said. “Hopefully we can get some answers.” 

They slowly walked forward, not bothering to sneak past the teeming Daedra. The creatures let them pass, even the instinctual clannfear snapped hungrily but did not go after their prey. 

Finally at the heart of the ruins there was a welkynd Stone pulsing w magicka. A glowing portal shimmered beyond the stone, yawning into Mehrunes’ demesne. Dremora stood in a perfect arc and looked up with cruel grins. 

The cloaked figure stood carefully away from the welkynd Stone and the gateway it powered. 

“The hero of the hour,” the hooded figure said. “And her pet cat. Or is it the other way around? Welcome.”   
The dremora menacingly closed in on the trio. As they did, Treewynne saw something being pulled into our world from the welkynd Stone. It was a massive creature, maybe a daedroth, maybe a Titan?   
They only touched glances for a moment, but Darien and her were of the same mind. She drew her blade and focused all her years training under the draconic arts. She’d only have one shot at stopping this invasion.   
Darien drew his blade and screamed, charging at the advancing pillar of dremora.   
The dremora were startled, parting under the ferocity of Darien’s unexpected attack. Raz drew his blade and struck at the other side of the column, forcing the unbalanced group of Dremora to back up.   
Treewynne focused her will into the greatest fire whip and fire breath she could conjure, hurling it all at once at the welkynd Stone.   
The hooded figure, realizing what was happening, shrieked in horror.   
“Noooo!”   
She pushed even harder against the welkynd Stone, feeling it pull at her along with the portal.   
“She’s trying to stop the- “   
Crack.  
The welkynd Stone shattered. 

Everything happened at once. A torrent of wind and untamed magic.   
The welkynd Stone, as it broke, fed like a hungry vampire on whatever was closest. The closest dremora vanished in a shrieking conflagration of ash, blue flame and dust that funneled toward the ruined sconce. Darien slammed his pommel into the head of a scrabbling dremora, forcing it off balance and toward the devouring maw of this unstable portal.   
Now the portal was a current of quicksand, grasping at anything from our reality and pulling it into this Dread realm.   
The dremora that weren’t vaporized immediately were pulled screaming into the churning maelstrom.   
“No, no, no!” The cloaked figure screamed. They tried in vain to resist being pulled in, but even then failed-swallowed in by its ceaseless hunger.   
Darien shuffled over to her and Raz who struggled to keep their footing.   
“Stay behind me! I’ll protect you!”   
He brought up dawnstar and gathered a shield of pure pulsing light. He gritted his teeth as the winds of the unstable portal grasped and struck, railing like unseen fists. 

Then the creature they saw on the edge of the portal before grew in size as it slowly emerged, separating itself from the portal until it stood whole and entire. The portal collapsed upon itself, leaving the group alone with a massive daedroth. 

It shuffled forward, snapping hungry jaws at them. 

The battle raged between the battered heroes and the monster and it was quickly clear they were outmatched. Claws struck, just barely missing flesh. Blue flames shot out in a cauldron of heat. 

“This one doesn’t like this,” Raz said.   
The three were pressed together, their weapons drawn. Was this how they were going to go out? 

The Daedra leered over them and inhaled for one last incinerating blast. 

My child, a deep voice, full of authority, rumbling from somewhere indistinct, said.   
Reach out. You must survive, you must guide my wayward children-save my beloved Nirn. 

“Auri El?” She whispered in wonderment.   
“Embrace my light as you have embraced my gifts.”   
She did, reaching toward the warmth of the light. It felt like the thundering of a great heart, and her own dragon blood of her Akaviri techniques pulsing woke to meet the master call, melding to the truth of the light.   
“You are not Dragonborn like the line of kings. But I gift you the strength to overcome my wayward children and protect my Nirn from them and the Princes. You are no longer just a dragonknight, but a Dragonborn-my champion.”   
“I understand great Auri El,” she said. 

The warmth raged through her and she felt herself reforged into something different, ancient as the rivers of Tamriel and the oldest rocks. 

She opened her eyes to see Raz and Darien struggle mightily against the Daedric abomination. 

Destroy it in my name, Auri El said from somewhere in her blood.   
She let the wisdom of the God of Time wash over her and found herself Shouting in an ancient language she barely knew but must be the language of her god. She Shouted again and again, battering the Daedra with flame and force and holy light until it was destroyed. 

They fought the Daedra in the ruin on the way to the surface, her own consciousness just on the edge of her waking self under a seething unconscious mind of what it must mean to be Dragonborn. 

Finally, they emerged from the Ayleid ruin and she collapsed, exhausted. Unseen hands worked over her, remaking her into Auri El’s champion. 

“Treewynne, Treewynne!” Darien called.   
Then the raging tide of Auri El’s transforming power swept her conscious self under as well.


	6. Chapter 3-2: The Dreaming Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treewynne is now in the strange pocket realm known as the Dreaming Path. Somewhere inside is Darien, and she has to find him.

Chapter 3.2- The Dreaming Path 

“Ah good, it seems you can hear me assistant. Excellent,” Divath said. “This is the Dreaming Path, a place I’ve been on a few occassions. It is like the Crystal Tower in some aspects I suspect, but unlike straddling infinite dimensions, those infinite connections go through this path. Be careful, it is an ancient place-older than our peoples. Probably older than the Dwarves themselves.”   
“Why would Dwemer music take him here?”   
“I have my theories, most of them irrelevant. But unlike me or the good Adept both you and Darien are special cases. Darien’s soul is not entirely his own anymore-yours either. It’s complicated. But I suspect as does Sotha Sil your interaction with multiple divine entities including Akatosh protects you in a way it does not for your companion.”   
“Okay any idea where he might be?”   
“Deeper in, but beyond that-I’m not certain.”   
The landscape around her was alien and not, crumbled ruins shimmering like mirages. Spectral scholars walking among vast libraries.   
And then there were doors, so many doors of blue light that shimmered.   
Her footfalls echoed, before being swallowed up by the stillness. But unlike the menacing silence of Quagmire, this was serene-this place needed no boundaries, no senses to accommodate the denizens here. It simply was. 

She could only go forward in a direction, past whispers and teases of knowledge. She caught tantalizing glimpses of what must’ve been the paradise of Old Aldmeri and the ancestors of her people, the Aldmer (ancestors of the Altmer) and the Ayleids. 

But the scenes she passed were not happy ones. Like the Chimer, the Ayleids almost exclusively worshipped the Daedra while the Aldmeri and her ancestors worshipped a combination of divines. There were so few “good” Daedra, it would inevitably bring the three peoples into conflict.   
“We must be prepared,” her ancestor said. “We’ve lost too much ground to them and their machines.”   
“Our mages can’t keep a barrier up when they’re using their music,” the Aldmer said. “Do the Princes have anything for us Lin?”   
“Some small solutions yes,” the Ayleid said. “But that will only buy us time. We will eventually have to leave.”   
“And give ground to those monsters?”   
“You asked what the Princes say. Most see islands of plenty far from here where we can leave the godless heathens behind.”   
“If they follow?”   
“The Princes have ways of picking them off,” the Ayleid smiled with too much teeth. 

“The Dwemer?” she asked. No that couldn’t be right. All the records said the Dwemer had peace with our people. 

She continued, and so did the visions.   
“Auri-El, tell me what I must do,” a priest of Auri-El said.   
“The people have forsaken me and the pact that keeps them safe. They have lost the Ruby Diadem. You must retrieve it.”   
“But my lord, what of our brothers who betrayed us to their Princes? Your people fear my lord.”   
“Have them gather in the Cloister of Time. My wings will shelter them from Oblivion’s grasp. Then when that is done speak to Tung-Sei. He will know where to find my kin who grieved for my people and fell of her own will.”   
“But my lord, that is a Dwemer are they not-“   
“Most are, and some even wish to hasten my other self’s arrival. But Tung-Sei is a friend to my people and my lost sister. He will know where to find the Ruby Gem and her.”   
“As you will my Lord,” the priest bowed. 

Deeper in, the tone of the visions changed.   
Dwarven music blasted out in waves. Soldiers of her ancestors and the Aldmeri were in disheveled lines, hugging the nearby wall of stone. In their midst was...a Dwemer? She could only guess.   
“No no no Tung-Sei you have to keep your eyes open,” a cleric said.   
“The Path calls to me.”   
“But we need your help. We’re so close to finding the Ruby Gem and Auri El’s fallen sister.”   
“Meridia,” the Dwarf croaked.   
“The Prince?”   
“That is...the fallen star. She comes to some of us. She came to me and gave me hope. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” the Dwarf said   
“Where do we find Meridia? Where do we find the Ruby Gem?”   
“Meridia is wandering the Paths, but she is not meant for those places. You must get her out. Find...the Sapphire Fire in the...Paths.” And then the Dwarf died.   
“Im sorry old friend. May we drink in Aetherius again.” 

“Mortal,” the kind voice of Meridia cut through the visions. “The Sapphire Fire is with my champion. It is the thing keeping him from slipping away, but as I was not meant for those Paths he is not either. You must take him and the Sapphire Fire out of this place. And when you return, the Fire will help you heal Sotha Sil’s people.”   
“Can you tell me why Dwemer music is here?”   
“Sotha Sil excavated near old Dwemer ruins, knowing the danger. A few over eager Apostles stumbled upon the ruin of Rzidal. They did not realize the horrors they’d unleashed. As for those Apostles well it is best not to say what happened to them. But there is a reason the followers of Akatosh and my followers struck down this place and buried it.”   
“Why would the Dwarves do this?”   
“I cannot say, only remind you that like much in Nirn, your people, the Dominion, the fight against Molag Bal and the other Princes there are divisions within divisions. Rzidal was from a group who experimented with powers best left be, who used their music to dominate and enslave like Mannimarco’s scattered flock do now. Now hurry, save my champion-he is depending on you.” 

There were no more visions, no more glimpses of a past she wanted so desperately to know more. Only the calm serenity of this ancient place. 

She did not know how long she wandered until she saw Darien clutching four green blue stones to his chest. His breaths were labored.   
“Darien!”   
She knelt beside him and cupped his face in her hands.   
“I’m so sorry it took me so long. I’m here, I promise.”   
“Treewynne? Oh am I glad to see you. Wow this place is something. Wouldn’t recommend it as a vacation spot. Woof. But it’s something.”   
“It’s alright, we’re getting out of here. Can you stand?”   
He slowly, gingerly propped himself up and leaned heavily on her.   
“Sorry I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”   
“It’s this place,” Treewynne said. “Come on.” 

There was a rumbling like a terrible monster waking from an aeons long sleep.   
“The stones! The stones,” a harsh cadence of angry whispers.   
Once more the rumbling and then it stopped.   
“Why do I have a feeling we should be running?” Darien asked   
There was a hissing like leaves rattling against stone, steam escaping from fissures. And a blast of wind devoid of any warmth.   
Treewynne looked back and a great snake of poisonous mist gathered, coalescing into form. Its baleful red eyes centered on them and it screamed in rage.   
“We gotta go now! Now, run!” 

Treewynne did not need to look back to know the snake creature was behind them. They ran blindly.   
Where was the exit!? 

The snake screamed again.   
“The SSSTONES!!!”   
“Use them Darien,” Meridia said. “Hurry!!”   
“The SSSTONES!!”   
Darien hesitantly reached out and the stones flared to life, sweeping a gale of warmth and life as it licked over them like cleansing fire. 

Then they collapsed in a heap, the stones still shimmering.   
“Ow!”   
“Ah good, you’re back. I had lost means to communicate with you. But it seems like you’ve accomplished what you came for. Did you learn anything?”  
“Not as much as I hoped,” Treewynne said. “But we can fight back.”   
“Ah yes, good. Excellent. I’ll leave the fighting mechanical monstrosities to you then. There are more and more in the Wastes outside the Fortress. Disturbing really.”   
Adjunct Daro also started waking up.   
“Wow, I feel like I stayed up too late reading the Encyclopedia Mechanica,” Daro said.   
“But you do have a plan, yes?” Divath Fyr said.   
“Sort of. These stones are the key, and we know where they’re coming from-an old ruin called Rzidal.”   
“Hmm. Yes actually I shall accompany you when you’re ready to set out,” Divath Fyr said.   
“Why the sudden change of heart?”   
“The reasons would bore you and most are irrelevant. But you will need my considerable magical skill there. Sotha Sil won’t even go near the place when we sealed it.”  
“Well, I’m all for having the cranky old mage with us,” Darien said.   
“I’m coming with too,” Holli said in her disturbingly calm manner. “The Apostles need someone to account for the missing, and since it falls to me..”   
“Welcome aboard?”   
“Thank you,” she said with a curt nod.   
“Well then, whenever you’re ready Hero.”


	7. Chapter Three-Cogs, Gears and Strange Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treewynne and Darien have to put their search for a way to free Cadwell on hold as there is an emergency missive from the Clockwork City. But their investigation puts Darien in harms way, and Treewynne must act fast to save him from the clutches of ancient Dwemer magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References events in the msq of Clockwork City, a side quest in the Morrowind expansion and references a public dungeon quest in the Wrothgar expansion.

Chapter Three-Cogs, Gears and Strange Magic 

“You know, when I said tavern, I didn’t mean someplace that smells like a tavern,” Darien said. “Where are we anyway?” 

“Deep underground. Apparently because you haven’t been to the City yet, we have to go this way. Careful though, last time this place was crawling with Living Shadows and Daedra.” 

“Living Shadows? You’re-not joking, are you?”  
“Nope. The Shadows especially were deadly,” Treewynne said. “No saying what we’ll run into down here now. We stopped the invasion but there’s still cultists.”   
“And where there’s cultists, there’s Daedra. Well, at least you keep it lively. I never get bored around you.”   
“Ha that’s the plan.” 

As they meandered underground, they passed bits of the ancient Chimer tunnels which gave way to Dwemer and Sotha Sil’s architecture. The great waterfall that hid this entrance rumbled still in the background.   
Factotums went about their work, so far unaware of the duo’s presence. Still she was careful to give them a wide berth. One or two were easy to dispatch, but in swarms they were dangerous.   
The closer they got to the true entrance, the more she noticed an odd sight among the usual factotums. Her breath chilled in her chest.   
Behemoth Praetorians hissed and rumbled in their menacing patrols, dwarven sentries sat waiting dormant in their shells. Dwarven arquebi rolled on mechanical wheels, keen to intercept any trespasser.   
Sotha Sil mimiced the Dwarven engineering at many turns, but the Clockwork God she knew would never introduce an unstable variable like these constructs, not on purpose.   
Then she saw many of the factotums themselves were acting strange. Their usually expressionless faceplates were instead alight with lights as red as blood. Some would look up from their work and stare as they passed. So far the stares were passive, but no less malevolent.   
“Song...Melody...Harmony. Perfect. Not Perfect. Needs. Must be. Song,” the factotums chanted as one.   
Even the dwarven constructs were aware of their passing, but didn’t move to intercept them. 

Then, when they were in view of the entrance they were assaulted by a barrage of sound. It was musical but discordant, like a harp so out of tune the strings were near to snapping. It snapped like a feral dog at the edge of their sanity, threatening to sweep it away entirely.   
Once, twice, three times the song tolled and then quieted, leaving the two companions shaken and alone with the chanting factotums.   
“Come on Darien, we gotta get to higher ground before the song comes back.”   
“What? Y-Yeah,” Darien said. “I’m with you.”   
Just to be sure, Treewynne grasped his hand and guided him to the wasteland in front of the Brass Fortress. His grip was clammy, barely there, pulsing with waning strength.   
Oh no, oh no, Treewynne’s thoughts raced. The music had claimed some part of him. She had to hurry and get him to Divath or someone with arcane knowledge enough to help him.  
Yes there was no time, she had to risk the teleport to the Wayshrine with him unattuned.   
“Hold on Darien. Hold on.”   
She grabbed him and held him, wavering, firmly to her chest as the teleportation magic started its search for anything that didn’t belong.   
Yes, nothing to see here, she thought. He’s a part of me. He is me. Let us pass, let us go.   
Satisfied, the magic tugged them both and they appeared in the heart of the Fortress. 

It was a place of chaos, Apostles and factotums alike hurrying like bees out of a hive.   
“Sotha Sil preserve us, what are we to do!?”   
Initiate Tilele saw them and rushed over. “Thank goodness you’re here! Quick, into the Basilica. We’ll talk inside!”   
Treewynne clutched Darien’s weakening form to her as she followed as best she could after the frantic Tilele.   
She held the mechanical door open. “Inside, hurry! I’ll watch your back. Whole city’s gone mad.”   
She went inside the basilica, emergency lights on only. The new Proctor and novice Holli were crouched over the feeble form of Adjunt Daro.   
“He was outside when the last blast came. We’ve barely been able to keep him conscious. What’s happening?”   
“In short? Dwemer mind music.”   
“Dwemer? Here?”   
“We arrived and Darien got the brunt of it. Your factotums were acting strangely. And there were Dwarven Praetorians.”   
“An invasion?”   
“I don’t know. This feels different. Has Divath Fyr returned?”  
“Ah, assistant. It seems our timing aligns again,” Divath said, rising from his work. “And your companion is not well I see.”   
“Any idea how this happened? I had to return by the old entrance, I’ve only just arrived.”   
“I know as little as you, but I intend to stay until this matter is settled. Have no fear.”  
“Can you do anything to help Darien?”   
He paused. “Yes. But it won’t be as easy as Adjunct Daro’s case. In fact, Darien will be much, much harder to heal and at great personal danger to yourself. Are you prepared to do what is necessary?”   
“Yes. I lost him once, I’m not losing him again.”   
“Very well,” the Dark Elf mage said. “Put him on the table over there, if you would,” he gestured nearby.   
She gently placed Darien on the bronze table. His breathing was shallow, quiet, his eyelids closed but eyes flickering like hummingbirds underneath.   
“He’s in the Dreamers Path


	8. Chapter Three-Cogs, Gears and Strange Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treewynne and Darien have to put their search for a way to free Cadwell on hold as there is an emergency missive from the Clockwork City. But their investigation puts Darien in harms way, and Treewynne must act fast to save him from the clutches of ancient Dwemer magic. Part 1 of 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References events in the msq of Clockwork City, a side quest in the Morrowind expansion and references a public dungeon quest in the Wrothgar expansion.

Chapter Three-part one Dreamer’s Way ^Cogs, Gears and Strange Magic^

“You know, when I said tavern, I didn’t mean someplace that smells like a tavern,” Darien said. “Where are we anyway?” 

“Deep underground. Apparently because you haven’t been to the City yet, we have to go this way. Careful though, last time this place was crawling with Living Shadows and Daedra.” 

“Living Shadows? You’re-not joking, are you?”  
“Nope. The Shadows especially were deadly,” Treewynne said. “No saying what we’ll run into down here now. We stopped the invasion but there’s still cultists.”   
“And where there’s cultists, there’s Daedra. Well, at least you keep it lively. I never get bored around you.”   
“Ha that’s the plan.” 

As they meandered underground, they passed bits of the ancient Chimer tunnels which gave way to Dwemer and Sotha Sil’s architecture. The great waterfall that hid this entrance rumbled still in the background.   
Factotums went about their work, so far unaware of the duo’s presence. Still she was careful to give them a wide berth. One or two were easy to dispatch, but in swarms they were dangerous.   
The closer they got to the true entrance, the more she noticed an odd sight among the usual factotums. Her breath chilled in her chest.   
Behemoth Praetorians hissed and rumbled in their menacing patrols, dwarven sentries sat waiting dormant in their shells. Dwarven arquebi rolled on mechanical wheels, keen to intercept any trespasser.   
Sotha Sil mimiced the Dwarven engineering at many turns, but the Clockwork God she knew would never introduce an unstable variable like these constructs, not on purpose.   
Then she saw many of the factotums themselves were acting strange. Their usually expressionless faceplates were instead alight with lights as red as blood. Some would look up from their work and stare as they passed. So far the stares were passive, but no less malevolent.   
“Song...Melody...Harmony. Perfect. Not Perfect. Needs. Must be. Song,” the factotums chanted as one.   
Even the dwarven constructs were aware of their passing, but didn’t move to intercept them. 

Then, when they were in view of the entrance they were assaulted by a barrage of sound. It was musical but discordant, like a harp so out of tune the strings were near to snapping. It snapped like a feral dog at the edge of their sanity, threatening to sweep it away entirely.   
Once, twice, three times the song tolled and then quieted, leaving the two companions shaken and alone with the chanting factotums.   
“Come on Darien, we gotta get to higher ground before the song comes back.”   
“What? Y-Yeah,” Darien said. “I’m with you.”   
Just to be sure, Treewynne grasped his hand and guided him to the wasteland in front of the Brass Fortress. His grip was clammy, barely there, pulsing with waning strength.   
Oh no, oh no, Treewynne’s thoughts raced. The music had claimed some part of him. She had to hurry and get him to Divath or someone with arcane knowledge enough to help him.  
Yes there was no time, she had to risk the teleport to the Wayshrine with him unattuned.   
“Hold on Darien. Hold on.”   
She grabbed him and held him, wavering, firmly to her chest as the teleportation magic started its search for anything that didn’t belong.   
Yes, nothing to see here, she thought. He’s a part of me. He is me. Let us pass, let us go.   
Satisfied, the magic tugged them both and they appeared in the heart of the Fortress. 

It was a place of chaos, Apostles and factotums alike hurrying like bees out of a hive.   
“Sotha Sil preserve us, what are we to do!?”   
Initiate Tilele saw them and rushed over. “Thank goodness you’re here! Quick, into the Basilica. We’ll talk inside!”   
Treewynne clutched Darien’s weakening form to her as she followed as best she could after the frantic Tilele.   
She held the mechanical door open. “Inside, hurry! I’ll watch your back. Whole city’s gone mad.”   
She went inside the basilica, emergency lights on only. The new Proctor and novice Holli were crouched over the feeble form of Adjunt Daro.   
“He was outside when the last blast came. We’ve barely been able to keep him conscious. What’s happening?”   
“In short? Dwemer mind music.”   
“Dwemer? Here?”   
“We arrived and Darien got the brunt of it. Your factotums were acting strangely. And there were Dwarven Praetorians.”   
“An invasion?”   
“I don’t know. This feels different. Has Divath Fyr returned?”  
“Ah, assistant. It seems our timing aligns again,” Divath said, rising from his work. “And your companion is not well I see.”   
“Any idea how this happened? I had to return by the old entrance, I’ve only just arrived.”   
“I know as little as you, but I intend to stay until this matter is settled. Have no fear.”  
“Can you do anything to help Darien?”   
He paused. “Yes. But it won’t be as easy as Adjunct Daro’s case. In fact, Darien will be much, much harder to heal and at great personal danger to yourself. Are you prepared to do what is necessary?”   
“Yes. I lost him once, I’m not losing him again.”   
“Very well,” the Dark Elf mage said. “Put him on the table over there, if you would,” he gestured nearby.   
She gently placed Darien on the bronze table. His breathing was shallow, quiet, his eyelids closed but eyes flickering like hummingbirds underneath.   
“He’s in the Dreamers Path by now,” Divath said. “I’m going to send you after him. Maybe you can get some insight into who put these events into motion as well. Are you ready?”   
Treewynne nodded. 

This time, Treewynne was gonna save Darien!


End file.
